Before It's Too Late
by PascaleDeBom
Summary: Rumours of the end of the world aren't just rumours any more. It's a serious thread, unbalancing the world's population. People quit their jobs, run down their bucketlists and fall into depressions. Kurt is one of these people… without any family, in a big city that has turned into something that looks like a movie set, Kurt's alone. Then, there's Blaine.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:** Ehm, it's the end of the world so… you know… it's basically all horrible and gross with lots of death and suicides and stuff. Lots of triggers and things that will make you join my paranoid train! CHOO CHOO WE ARE NEVER LEAVING because apparently we're all going to die.

**A/N**: Listen, I don't even know what I'm doing but I watched creepy 2012 documentaries for a while and then this happened.

* * *

No one _cared_ anymore.

Kurt quit his job 2 weeks ago and has gone from being the assistant to a clothing designer to being a full time alcoholic. He was trapped in the city that he had wanted to get to so bad when he was younger… now he wanted nothing more but to escape it. But he didn't know how. He didn't have a car, taxis that didn't rape its customers were very rare these days and all other public transport had stopped. People quit their jobs. There were no people to drive the trains, to sell you tickets, to take you from point A to point B safely. He'd thought about stealing a bus, or a train but didn't. Not because he'd feel guilty about it; no one cared. He could steal a bus and no one would ever judge him, no one would even miss it or want it back. He hadn't stolen a bus, because there were no buses to steal. People had turned busses into campers and were making road-trips that lead away from home and never turned back. Hobos had turned busses into homes, where it was warmer and safer than it was outside on the streets. Sure, almost no bus still had all its windows, but given the choice of sleeping on a park bench or sleeping on a bus, the decision had been an easy one.

Kurt hadn't stolen a train either. He'd once ventured onto a subway platform, or tried to at least, but the horrible scent had made him turn around and go back to ground level. He didn't know what it was that he had smelled, but the only thing he could think of was death. It must have been the smell of people who had committed suicide. People that had thrown themselves off of buildings were simply thrown down the stairs of the subway because they wouldn't be in the way down there…

New York City had turned into something Kurt had only ever seen in films. This isn't what he'd pictured it to be like, ever. It was a violent place, with cars set on fire, explosions a few blocks away that had people screaming and made other car alarms go off that would ring for hours until the car batteries died. Kurt was stuck in hell and all he wanted was to be with people he loved. Most ideally, his parents back in Lima, Ohio.

They called every day, but phone-calls can only satisfy a person so much. It wasn't the same kind of comfort Kurt found when he hugged his dad, and what feared him the most was that he probably would never get the chance to receive one of those hugs ever again. Not if he had to believe what the news said;

In approximately three weeks, the earth would no longer be.

They were preparing people for something no one could ever be prepared for. And for what reason? They'd all _die_. Completely gone. Washed out.

Kurt was surprised there was still a newsreader, reading the news, even though you could tell he was alone in the studio- the camera never went off, and the reporter looked worse each day. Like he never left the space behind his desk, right next to the phone and a laptop where he would receive news to tell everyone who was watching.

Kurt rarely ventured outside of his apartment anymore. He was up high enough so people couldn't throw in his windows, so it was the one place where he felt safest. But he was out of liquor, and he needed more. There was nothing worse than being completely conscious, knowing that there was no point… so he numbed himself. Every morning he'd wake up and Kurt would feel it; realization. He was never hung over because there was no time for his body to be hung over; he was always drinking, never stopped. But there came times when there was nothing more to drink, which meant he needed to go outside to get more.

"Noodle, I'll be right back. Don't have an orgy with randoms whilst I'm gone." Kurt spoke to his cat, his joke painfully close to the truth, but Noodle only gave him a blank stare. Kurt looked at him for a moment before sighing and going out the door, not even bothering to bring any money.

Kurt left his apartment and for a second thought about taking the elevator down to the lobby. If he'd get stuck, it wouldn't matter anyway, would it?

It wouldn't.

But somehow, he couldn't do it… he didn't know why, but he had such a strong need to survive even though he'd accepted his death a long time ago. For some reason he needed time to be stretched out, no matter how horrible it got. He couldn't figure it out, and he decided he wouldn't because it was all a waste of time anyway. He took the stairs.

In the lobby he found the security guard, Al, sleeping behind his desk. Kurt was surprised to see him there in the first place, but had to stop and roll his eyes at the stupidity of the situation, stomping his foot as he did so. The sudden sound of Kurt's boot hitting the floor made Al pipe up, like he'd woken up from a terrible nightmare. Scared eyes looked around, until they landed on Kurt.

"Oh, Mr Hummel. I'm sorry if I startled you, I-"

"Go home, Al. Go see your wife. Go tell your kids you love them." Kurt interrupted him. Kurt almost felt the need to get angry, but knew that Al was only behind his desk because he was a loyal, kind man who cared about his job.

"I barricaded the entrance for safety. Sorry for the inconvenience, the only way to go outside is from the fire-escape on the first floor." Al completely ignored everything Kurt said to him. He looked so tired, Kurt felt he needed to say something, but Al showed a hopeless smile and gestured toward the stairs-door that Kurt had just came from. Kurt decided against telling Al to stop working and said thank you as he turned around and made its way back up the stairs.

Climbing out of a large window onto a fire escape is something Kurt had never done before, but had seen it in films and TV shows all the time. What he didn't know is that it did involve a little bit of skills he didn't know he was going to need and he very nearly fell, almost hitting his head on the railing of the small balcony-type platform he was on. A little shaken, he eventually made it out safely and worked out how to lower the stairs to climb down on.

When finally on the street, he brushed down his clothes and looked around. The last time he'd been outside, the place had looked a lot more alive. Sure, there were people setting bins on fire and breaking into cars, but that was because there were things to get, things to steal because everyone knew that no one was stopping them.

Now his block was deserted. In the far distance he could hear sirens. Sirens of what he suspected were stolen police vehicles that weren't even moving, but were abandoned and were just _there_. The breeze made everything light enough fly through the streets; pages out of newspapers that didn't read anything new, food wrappers of stolen food because every store and every supermarket no longer had people managing it and other rubbish. It made Kurt's heart ache to see the place he loved so dearly become such a dump.

His short walk to the closest store was anything but pleasant. Kurt was on look-out, constantly looking around him, jumping at every noise and silently counting the escaped or left-behind pets that would try and find food wherever they could. If Kurt could, he'd take in all of them so they could be happy, and warm and fed, but he knew he could never do such a thing. He'd know how it would end; he'd start with a cat. Just some company for Noodle. But then another, maybe a pet from one of his neighbours that he could cry out at night, hoping someone would answer them and give them the slightest bit of attention. He'd end up with a flat full of animals he couldn't feed which meant they would start to feed off of each other and he'd have that happen outside rather than inside his apartment. Taking care of just Noodle was a task.

Kurt reached the main street and could see the store from where he was standing, pressed against a building, hoping no one with bad intentions would see him. The store had thrown in windows and he knew there wasn't gonna be much left; people took what they could take, it was all for free now.

Stepping through the large shop window, his foot landed on glass that was all over the floor and he winced at the noise it made. He'd been so quiet, and even though his part of the city looked deserted, there were still people everywhere. People like Kurt, that had no reason or no way to leave. The noise of glass didn't get a reaction, and so he silently started searching the store; alcohol, if there was any at all, and cat food. That was all he needed.

As expected, the entire liquor section was empty, with more broken glass on the floor. He sighed and was almost ready to accept that he had to sober up now- something he wasn't really looking forward to. He looked around at other shelves for a while, pleased that he was completely alone, but not so pleased with the fact that there was in fact nothing for him to take home. Not even cat food.

With his head bowed down, he walked past the mostly empty shelves, back to the broken window he'd entered the store through. When he walked past the registers, he suddenly realized something. Every store had a back, a stockroom, a depository; a place where potentially there were piles and piles of unpacked goods. He knew that people had probably thought to check there too, but it couldn't hurt to check it out. Besides, he'd never been in a stockroom of a supermarket and suddenly wanted to explore. He found the door that lead to the back and took a deep breath before opening it. For a second he thought it might have been locked, but it flew open, pushing some things that were on the floor aside.

There wasn't much, but he did find cat food which was something. Along with some other items, he searched for a plastic bag until he'd found one and started loading it up. Enough cat food to last three weeks, enough cheese, enough crackers, enough chicken soup- it was all there, and Kurt thought about how people had missed this. This place wasn't completely trashed, and still had enough food for a couple of Italian families to last until…

A sudden sound made Kurt freeze in his tracks. He winced slightly at the noise his plastic bag still made. He didn't move for a few seconds and waited for another sound to detect where it came from and if he'd be in danger or not.

When after a while, he still hadn't heard anything, he started packing up quick. Toilet paper, face wash, rubber gloves – he didn't need half the stuff, but he took items because they were there and he might need them because no one knew exactly what was coming.

Then that noise again. Instead of freezing or hiding, Kurt sped up his actions and when the paper bag had reached its limit, he was ready to run home. Run back to safety.

But just as he was about to turn around and leave, a sharp poke in his back made him welp and he froze completely. _A gun_.

"Don't move." A low, strong voice demanded.


	2. Chapter 2

Equally scared as shocked, Kurt was sure of it. He knew he was gonna die soon, but he never knew it was going to be this soon. The gun that was still poking his back, was shoved into his back even harder.

"Put the bag down and leave and I will let you go." The deep, low voice spoke again. Kurt heard a tremble when this man spoke, and realized he must have been just as scared as he was, but didn't acknowledge it fully in case he might actually get shot.

"Can I just-" Kurt tried, slightly turning his head to the side, hoping he might get a glimpse of who was behind him. He wanted to try at least get the cat food. Whoever this person was, he was sure that he didn't need all the cat food Kurt packed in his plastic bag. Besides, there was still lots of it left in this stockroom.

"_Leave!_" the owner of the gun didn't let Kurt finish and had interrupted him with a loud yell.

It made Kurt jump slightly and in the process he dropped the bag and without looking back, he rushed out the door, feeling incredibly relieved that the pressing of the gun in his back was now gone, but still aware that the person could still decide to shoot him. So he ran.

He ran out of the storage room, into the supermarket, past the empty shelves, to the broken window and just when he thought he was going to be safe, he slipped. Stepped on a piece of glass that went sliding, bringing Kurt to the floor.

He broke the fall with his hands, instantly feeling hundreds of little glass pieces go into the flesh of his hands. He yelped loudly, crying out in pain. In panic, he looked back to see if he had been followed by the armed person he had just been threatened by. Luckily he hadn't.

Using his elbows, getting glass splinters onto his jacket, he sat himself up and looked at his hands, instantly thinking of how he was going to lower the fire escape to get back into his apartment. Besides a lot of small tiny little pieces of glass that looked like glitter, there were large chunks of glass sticking out of his palms. One in the left hand, two in the right. With his teeth he tried to remove the one larger piece from his left hand so he could use that to remove the other two. It worked, but not without more cries of pain that he tried to muffle which was hard as he was using his mouth as a tool; he couldn't exactly cover it.

Sucking in through his teeth he made sure his left hand was useable enough to work with. Softly scraping it over his jeans, trying to somehow roll the glittery glass off of his hand, he winced. _Shit_, this hurt.

"Oh, my God,"

Kurt snapped his head up to see someone staring at him from behind a shelf.

"Don't shoot me!" Kurt panicked, not even seeing a gun, but he was sure this bearded hobo had been the one who was about to kill him in the stockroom. He covered his face with his arms, palms out towards the stranger. It didn't protect him at all, he was still open for gun shots, but it was the least he could do to feel at least a little protected from this criminal.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?"

The voice surprisingly softer, Kurt suddenly wasn't sure if this was in fact the person that had just shooed him away, and hesitantly lowered his arms a bit. Enough to look over them and take a second look at this person. Maybe this was someone who had entered the store a minute ago to find food, just like Kurt had done a few minutes ago.

Without warning, the stranger stepped forward and kneeled down in front of him, glass crackling below his feet and knees. He took hold of one of Kurt's wrists which we still extended in front of him, halfly covering his face. Without saying anything, he inspected it, taking a real close look.

Kurt just sat there, scared, panicking and in pain. Like a deer in headlights, he looked at the stranger who only had eye for his injuries.

"Can I…?" the stranger asked after a pause.

Kurt wanted to nod, but this was too bizarre.

"W-what are you going to do?" Kurt swallowed hard.

"Don't worry," they caught each other's eyes.

"I'm a doctor."

Kurt didn't speak or give any sign of being okay with anything happening to him. The stranger must have thought that Kurt didn't believe him, because after a few seconds he got up and started searching the isles. It seemed like he couldn't find was he was looking for.

"Don't move, I'll be right back!" he yelled out and Kurt saw how he was about to enter the stockroom.

"_Don't!_" Kurt yelped. "Don't go in there! Someone has a gun!" he tried, reaching out his hand as if to bring him back that way. So far the stranger hadn't done anything hurtful to him even though easily could have. He made his conclusions; this must be a good guy.

The stranger appeared again, peeping its head around the corner, looking visibly uncomfortable.

"That wasn't a gun…. that was… that was a packet of spaghetti…" he half smiled. "I'm… I'm sorry, about that. About earlier… I thought you might threaten me if you found me, so I wanted to make sure I did it first," he explained, and Kurt noticed how awkward he looked. As if he didn't know how to move his body or where to place his hands. Kurt's mouth was slightly open, not sure what to say but slightly in shock by what he just said.

He wanted to be really angry with this man, but he thought about how if he had had a gun, he could've shot him; yet he hadn't. The stranger disappeared again and Kurt heard rummaging. Kurt then rolled his eyes at himself. This was ridiculous. He got up, which was a task but he managed to do it quite quickly, and looked back one more time to see if he was still alone. Then, stepping through the window, he left. Glass still in his hands, he did the only thing he thought was appropriate and he started running. For a second he thought of ducking into one of the side streets, because what if he would be followed? But he couldn't. He needed to go home, and he needed to go home _fast_.

"_Al!_" he yelled and kicked the door of his apartment building as he couldn't exactly use his hands to bang it. "Al, come help me lower the fire escape ladder!" he kicked harder, hoping Al would hear him.

"AL!"

"Mr Hummel?"

"Al, please be quick, I don't know if I'm being followed and I've hurt my hands," Kurt yelled through the big wooden barricaded doors.

"I'll be right there sir!" Al's hurried voice yelled back, sounding soft through the doors. Now all Kurt could do was wait, as he looked around the street in full panic mode. His adrenaline was running high, he could feel his heart beat in his throat and thought to himself how adrenaline _sucked._ At this moment in time he did not understand why he used to like watching horror films so much – _adrenaline kicks sucked_. They meant you were in survival mode which was far too terrifying to Kurt. It was stressful and Kurt wasn't particularly good at it.

He heard the window above him open and Al's leg appeared. Then his body and then the other leg.

"Thank you, Al. I fell down and I've got glass in my hands, I don't know how-" Kurt didn't get to finish his sentence.

"Hey!"

Both Kurt and Al jerked their heads towards where the loud yell had come from.

"Shit," Kurt hissed under his breath and gestured for Al to quickly lower the ladder.

"Hey, you!" the bearded stranger came running towards him, plastic bag in one hand and a white box in the other.

"Stop, I only want to-"

"No, you stop!" Kurt suddenly yelled back, his voice loud and high. It startled the stranger so much, it made him stop running. He was now only standing two doors away from Kurt, close enough to hear him speak, but far enough to not be able to stab Kurt without Kurt being able to dodge.

"I don't have any money or any other valuables, there's nothing I can offer you." Kurt screamed, holding his hands out as if to keep the stranger at an acceptable distance. Which is why he suddenly noticed his watch.

"This is all I have," Kurt said, not only his voice but his entire body was shaking. He brought the watch-strap to his mouth to undo it.

"What? _No_, I-"

"Here!" Kurt had removed the watch impressively quick and and thrown it towards him.

"I have a gun!" Al suddenly screamed from above, making both of them look up at him. Kurt knew Al didn't have any kind of weapon on him, but Al had his hand hidden inside his jacket as if he were holding one.

"If you don't… If you don't leave Mr Hummel alone, I-I will shoot you!" Al tried to sound strict, but it didn't work. He was an adorable old man who was trying to help but only seemed to make it worse. Kurt sighed and turned back to the stockroom guy.

"Just," he pleaded, giving in. "Just leave me alone, okay? We're all going to die… at least let me say goodbye to my cat?" Even as he thought about it, Kurt welled up. His vision very suddenly blurred up and he sobbed, surprising himself. There had been so much tension, and he gave up, falling to his knees and sobbing. So many tears had already been shed.

It was enough.

_No one even cared_.

If this was it, then this was it. Kurt had almost accepted his death, when he suddenly felt someone gently take his wrists. For a second he thought it was Al… but he could never have climbed down the ladder so quickly.

He never looked up, but he saw his hands. Hands with olive skin and dark hairs. Hands that were soft and warm and that helped him. One by one, the glass pieces were taken out of his palms. Some of them hurt, but most of them didn't. He felt the warmth and wetness of blood on his hands, but a cloth wiped it away. Gentle, oh so very gentle.

Next came bandage. Both his hands were wrapped up in crisp white bandage and when his hands were done, his wristwatch was strapped back onto the wrist he had taken it off earlier. He then saw how the plastic bag was placed in front of him. It was_his_ bag. The bag he had filled up with cat food and a lot of stuff he didn't even need. He was made to drop it earlier, when he was being threatened with spaghetti, but now it was here.

Kurt was still crying, almost unable to stop.

A sturdy hand on his shoulder made him look up. It was Al. He was smiling at him and nodded his head, using it to point at something in front of Kurt. Kurt looked up and saw the stranger walk away, holding the white box he'd seen in his hands earlier. He didn't look back at him, he just walked and then turned the corner. He was gone.

"Do you want me to help you get inside, Mr Hummel?" Al asked.

Staring after a person that was already out of vision a few moments longer, Kurt finally nodded and got up. Al helped him get to his feet and grabbed his bag for him.

"Ah, Noodles will be pleased." Al said as he noticed what was in the bag. His friendly smile made Kurt halfly smile back at him. Kurt had no idea what just happened, but he felt a lot better than he'd done before.


	3. Chapter 3

Venturing out had never been Kurt's favourite thing to do, but this time had been different. Kurt didn't think he was any less depressed, but he felt lighter. Almost like he'd lost weight that had been attached to his body and he hadn't been able to shake it off.

Kurt hadn't said a word, not even to Noodles. He opened a tin of cat food and made his pet meow loudly as it curled its tail around Kurt's ankles. It took a bit of a struggle to get the tin open completely, but he was happy enough he could still use his fingers.

Taking a second look at the bandages, they were done so perfectly, Kurt wondered if the boy really was a doctor like he'd said in the store. People lied about everything now, he wasn't sure about anyone's intentions so he usually never believed or trusted anybody.

He remembered his boss, telling him to come in to the office, no matter what the news said because Kurt _mattered_ and she needed him. _Fashion never dies_, she used to tell him. And even though Kurt would receive phone calls from his dad to just come home already, he always said he couldn't. They needed him and he wasn't just going to let them down over something silly the media was spreading. It was a time where 50 per cent of the people were stacking up on food and goods and the other 50 per cent was laughing at the former half, calling them losers for falling for the lies.

Less and less people would show up at work. Some people quit, others just stopped coming but not Kurt. His boss told him every day, '_See you tomorrow, Kurt._' And then she'd hand him work to do at home. Anything to keep him coming back… and he'd obliged.

Until one day, when he'd entered the office and noticed the music in the elevator wasn't on. Most of the offices in the building didn't have its lights on and he knew that this was probably the last time he'd be here. Entering the offices, he was alone. Or so he thought. Walking through the office, he suddenly heard noises and when trying to look where the noises came from, he saw it. _The closet_. The door was open – which it never was – and there were more clothes on the floor than on the racks. The closet had been raided. Completely in shock, because Kurt knew how important the closet was, he followed the noises and eventually found a couple, having sex on the desk of the conference room. He had never seen the man before, but he recognized his boss immediately.

"Isabelle?" Kurt had stammered, making her turn her head, not even stopping them from what they were doing.

"Kurt, go home!" she had yelled. Kurt saw what she was wearing – and what he was wearing. Clothes from the closet. The most expensive pieces were draped around them, ready to be ripped off, none of them giving a damn about the luxurious fabrics.

"I thought you were married," Kurt had mentioned the first thing that had popped into his mind. He'd met Isabella's husband plenty of times… and the man pounding his boss was a much younger, better looking and blonder version of him.

Isabella had then pushed the guy off of her and pulled the dress down. Not getting off the table, she rolled herself around, now laying on her stomach and looking at Kurt.

"Go home, Kurt. Nobody is anybody's anymore… Marriages have no value anymore. I don't belong to anyone, I'm free! Everybody's free!" she had screamed with pure joy._Drunk_, Kurt had thought. Now he might have thought she was just insane and had completely lost her mind. Kurt hadn't stayed much longer. He left his boss to get back to her boy-toy and had gone to clean up the closet. It almost pained his heart to see such beautiful pieces, carelessly thrown to the floor. Once everything was back on a hanger or on a shelf, he left.

Everyone was a liar.

No one even _cared_.

Kurt sighed to himself and smiled at Noodles eating his food.

"At least someone's happy." He spoke as he stroked his cat before walking into the bathroom. He made himself ready for bed – it'd been a long, eventful day. When he finally tucked himself under his sheets he realized this was the first time in weeks that he'd gone to bed completely sober.

He thought he'd hate it a lot more than he actually did. He only closed his eyes for a second, but fell asleep in an instant.

Kurt woke up and for just a moment enjoyed waking up feeling okay. He was still halfly dreaming when the sudden realization kicked in and he sat up, bolt right, in his bed. Kurt sighed.

"Another day of pure bliss," the sarcasm made his morning even more miserable than it already was, making Kurt groan to himself. Noodles had woken up too and was looking at him with a blank expression.

"Morning, Noodles," he said and yawned before getting out of bed. He shuffled his feet into his slippers and checked his alarm clock.

"Oh, I'm sorry. _Afternoon_, Noodles." Kurt said, surprised that he'd slept until 1pm. Even when he'd been drinking he'd wake up at 8am sharp. He didn't even have to set his alarm, he'd wake up at 8am and there was nothing had seemed to be able to stop him from doing so.

Except, so it seemed, sobering up.

Dragging himself to the kitchen, he felt an appetite.

_That's strange_, Kurt thought to himself. He'd been living on cheese and booze for the past month and had never felt the slightest bit of hunger… and now, he was hungry. He opened the fridge, only to be confronted with its emptiness. Closing it again, he thought of the plastic bag. It was still on the counter and having a look through all the stuff, he started taking everything out.

Chicken soup. He wanted chicken soup. Perfect.

Kurt smiled to himself and silently thanked the kind stranger for bringing him his bag of stolen food. He admitted to himself, he never hoped to see this person again, ever, in his life, after he'd climbed out of the window of the supermarket. He'd been so scared, so helpless… so alone.

"Figures why I cracked," Kurt said to Noodles who'd now joined him in the kitchen but obviously had no idea what he was talking about. Kurt shook his head and chuckled at himself. It's a _cat_. They never know what he was talking about.

Kurt's thoughts went back to his last day at his job. It was that day that he'd given up hope. People started turning; from skeptics to people who had mental break downs and went into full panic mode. Kurt saw it happen and he wanted to make it stop. He wanted to tell people, there's no need to go mad, we're all going to die together. No one gets left behind. Go make your last days count!

But no one listened.

Because no one cared.

So he stopped trying and lost faith in his own words. He too had gone into full panic mode and had slipped into a depression. So much for making your last days on earth count. They'd meant nothing. All Kurt had done was drink and spend time on the phone, talking to his dad, his stepmom and sometimes his stepbrother.

If Kurt was honest with himself, he was a tiny bit proud of himself too. He'd lasted much longer than a lot of the people around him. They'd given up in an instant – just stopped trying. When the first news bulletin post was placed up on the board next to the water cooler of a suicide among his colleagues, he'd been so in shock. He'd felt so much grief, and he barely even knew the guy that had launched himself off a bridge.

But then the next came.

There were suicides every day. People decided they should go down their bucket lists and tick down each and every one of their life goals. Unfortunately that meant a lot of people wanted to bungee jump… but people who organized bungee jumps had also quit their jobs - there were no professionals to help. So instead, people saved bungee jumping and put it at the bottom of their lists. Then, when everything else had been done, there was nothing left but to just jump. Leap off a building or a bridge. Experience a free fall.

People decided they wanted to do a lot of things. And people. It was exactly like Isabelle had said. Nobody belonged to anybody anymore. Marriage stopped having meaning all together. New York had turned into a giant orgy, free for anyone to join. People cheated and got cheated on.

But no one even cared.

After breakfast, Kurt turned on the TV. Checking the news. Seeing if there were any new predictions. It was depressing to watch, but weeks ago Kurt had decided it was better to be depressed but informed than to know nothing and die doing something incredibly unimportant.

But there was no news.

The camera in the studio was still rolling, and you could see someone's head, resting on the desk of the news reporter. Kurt stared at it for a minute, thinking the news reporter must have fallen asleep. He already thought he slept in the studio anyways. But then he noticed there was no movement at all. No breathing movement of the body.

Kurt moved closer to the TV and stared a few more moments. Until he was sure, and turned off the TV. With every death it became more real, and even though Kurt felt emotions building up inside his body, he felt numb.

As if his body was pushing the feelings away, because there'd been too much feelings.

He checked the time again and decided he'd call his dad, instead of waiting for him to call. Kurt knows they had made a rule, to only call when there would be an emergency, and that his dad would call him every day – just to chat. But Kurt didn't want to wait for him, he wanted to talk to him now.

Kurt called.

Dial tone.

Nothing.

Kurt stared at his phone. It had stopped calling. So Kurt tried again.

Dial tone.

Nothing.

Kurt felt himself get frustrated. Again. Third time's a charm. Kurt called.

Dial tone.

Nothing.

Angrily Kurt smashed his phone to the floor and was on the verge of tears. He then quickly picked up his phone to see if it was broken at all – he needed to be reachable. Maybe his dad had unplugged the phone for some reason, or maybe they'd had a power cut and he'd call Kurt as soon as they'd have power again. Kurt came up with a million reasons, but nothing quite convinced him. After trying again, and again, and again, he eventually gave up.

Unless…

Maybe it was _his_ phone with a problem. Without a second thought, Kurt put on his jacket, said goodbye to Noodles and left his apartment. This time with a little money, off to find a pay phone booth that still worked. He knew his dad's phone number off by heart – the home line and the mobile phone number.

When climbing down the stairs, he decided to go and say hi to Al and walked past the first floor, down to ground level. Entering the lobby, he found Al, behind his desk. Asleep.

Kurt cleared his throat and saw Al straighten up, suddenly awake.

"Al, it's me." Kurt spoke, making sure he wasn't scaring him. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Afternoon Mr Hummel." Al smiled. "How are you doing today?" he asked, seeming genuinely interested in Kurt. Kurt nodded slowly, reassuring Al he was doing okay.

"I'm just going to go and find a pay phone booth that works to see if I can reach my parents. I might kick the doors later for your help with the ladder," Kurt said and showed his bandaged hands, reminding Al of what had happened the day before.

"Ah, yes. Of course. Good luck finding one, I heard most of the pay phone booths were destroyed by the riots a week ago."

"Thanks, Al." Kurt smiled, feeling happy that he at least always had Al to talk to. He knew he'd told him to go home to his wife and children, but he was happy Al still showed up at his building every day. His wife must think he's crazy, Kurt chuckled to himself as he climbed back up the stairs to the first floor. His smile soon disappeared when he thought of what Isabelle had told him.

_Nobody is anybody's anymore_.

Maybe Al's wife was no longer at home with the kids. Maybe she'd left them, and went to join the orgy parties Kurt had only heard about. _Oh, Al…_ Kurt thought. _Thank God we have each other.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

Even brave Kurt could get scared. He thought people forgot sometimes. He'd put up with a lot of bullying and had learned that putting on a brave face, a mask that didn't show any weakness, had been best. Fake it 'til you make it. But that didn't mean Kurt never got scared. Quite the contrary, actually.

Kurt wandered the streets but all the pay phone booths that he found had been wrecked. The "WiFi hot spot" signs were either ripped off entirely or were hanging down the sides. Phones were cut off their chords completely, or they just didn't work. Kurt had held over 23 pay phones which would have usually disgusted him- something other people _touched_? Something other people had pressed to their _ears_ and had their _mouths_ so close to? Something other people had _breathed into_? No. Before this, he'd never ever touch a pay phone without spraying a load of hand sanitizer over everything he had to touch first. But not this time. He hadn't bothered with hygiene at all. He just wanted to speak to his dad.

What hurt Kurt the most was thinking about how his father was losing his mind in Lima, not being able to call Kurt either. Neither of them knew if the other was okay and imagining his dad being comforted by Carole made the lump in his throat grow.

He couldn't stop looking for a pay phone that worked. He had to find one. But even pay phone booth he came across had been broken. Completely trashed. Everything seemed to have been smashed up - the place looked like a broken ghost town.

After the 38th pay phone he'd put to his ear to try and hear a dial tone, he gave up. Slamming the phone back onto its hook with anger, he let out a desperate sob. He wasn't crying, it was just frustration. So much trying, but no success. It was useless. His mind went over other ways to maybe contact his dad, and for a moment he thought about breaking into the apartments of his neighbours. He knew most of them had left - he never heard anyone go out or go in to apartments in his hall. Then the thought of people having committed suicide in these apartments crossed his mind. Maybe that was why he never heard anyone anymore, and he scrapped the idea all together.

Maybe Al would know what to do.

So he started walking back to his apartment building. Well, not exactly walking. It wasn't a nice stroll around the city which he used to enjoy so much when he'd first got here. It was more a game of hide and seek as he ducked behind trash cans, carefully turned corners of buildings, first throwing a stone or a stick to see if someone would be startled by it and shoot. Because what if he carelessly turned a corner and made someone jump who hadn't expected there to be anyone. He might scare someone so bad they would end up doing something stupid. Like stab Kurt.

But he hadn't been stabbed. There was no one in the streets. The sirens he used to hear blocks away had stopped now too. He could walk in the middle of the street if he wanted. If he'd had the guts.

Turning one of the last corners, he could see his street from across where he was standing. He just had to venture past the supermarket where he'd hurt his hands the day before, cross the street and he'd be in his street, a couple addresses removed from his building. Once he'd turned that last corner, he no longer had to be afraid.

Slipping past the broken supermarket window, Kurt pressed himself up against the brick wall next to it. A thought had crossed his mind.

The stranger had been nice to him. Kurt looked at his hands. The bandage had gone grey. Dirty from all the phones he'd held. But his hands hadn't hurt once since they'd been wrapped up by the stranger.

Should he go in and say thanks?

Or at least show him some kind of gratefulness? Leave a note or something… Kurt didn't know what would be appropriate to do. Maybe it was best if he didn't go in at all and just go home. He could see his building from where he was standing.

No.

The chicken soup breakfast had been so nice. And Noodle had been so happy, purring at Kurt when he prepared her meals. He had to at least acknowledge this man's kindness and decided to take a few steps back and go into the store.

Before stepping through the broken window, he peered into the store. It was empty.

He noticed the specs of blood on the floor in the glass that he'd fallen into yesterday and he shuddered. Could you imagine if he hadn't broken his fall with his hands and had one of those larger pieces pierce through his neck?

Kurt shook of the thoughts and stepped into the window, he glass on the floor making enough noise to make the stranger know he was there.

That is… if he would be there at all.

Kurt suddenly thought how stupid this idea was. He'd somehow figured that this person lived in the back of the store. Why would he even think such a thing? He said he'd been a doctor. Surely he had an apartment of his own and was, just like Kurt, looking for food in the store. If he'd be there again now, it'd be such a coincidence- almost too much of a coincidence to be true.

So he decided to call out.

"H-hello?"

No sound greeted him back.

"Listen, if there's someone in the back over there, and if you happen to be the guy that threatened to kill me yesterday…" Kurt stopped to breathe, hoping he'd hear movement. But nothing.

"I just… I just came to say thank you for taking care of my hands, and for bringing the bag I left here… You- I mean, I-I think you're nice- It was nice of you to do that." Kurt said and took a deep breath.

He was probably alone. His words had been pointless. They hadn't reached anyone's ears at all. But having said them, Kurt felt better.

"So thank you." Kurt said, much softer now.

He took a moment to himself, looked at the floor and thought of anything else he wanted to say aloud. Then without thinking, he opened his mouth again.

"I'm looking for a phone. If you have a phone I could use to call someone with, I'd give you all the money I have left." Kurt said, stepping away from the window and closer to the registers.

No sound still. Kurt leaned back onto the conveyer belt, leaning against it whilst his hands played with the hem of his jacket.

"My phone doesn't seem to be able to reach my dad, and I'm afraid he can't reach me either. I just want to hear his voice…" Kurt was no longer speaking to anyone but himself. It almost felt like therapy.

"I've been so stupid. I should've just gotten on a train back to Ohio when I still had the chance… I should've quit my job after the first suicide note got posted… but of course I didn't. I stuck around because my boss needed me- she told me every day that he needed me to be there the next day so I didn't give up, even though my dad pleaded me to come home. He called every day to ask me to come home- he said he'd send Finn over so I wouldn't have to travel alone." Kurt sniffled.

"When I decided I was done, and wanted to go back home, it was too late. Trains didn't ride anymore, busses had stopped driving and plane tickets are so expensive – there hardly are any planes leaving anymore… the other day I heard someone paid over a million dollars to go to Europe to be with the love of their life… I just-"

"Here,"

Kurt almost had a heart attack. His cheeks were wet and cold, and he's almost fallen to the floor when suddenly another voice spoke up. From behind the same shelf he'd been hiding behind before, he held out his arm, holding a mobile phone. Kurt looked at him, eyes open wide, almost too scared to breathe.

"Take it. I don't even want it back, you can have it."

Kurt's crying had stopped, as he just looked at him. Dark beard, wild curls… he didn't look much like a doctor at all.

"I thought-" Kurt started, hastily wiping his cheeks dry with the back of his bandaged hands. "I thought you weren't here…"

The stranger stepped and put the mobile phone down on the conveyer belt next to where Kurt was standing, keeping a respectable distance between them.

"I sort of moved in here… I, I set up camp in the back." He stepped back, hiding half his body behind the shelves again.

Kurt glanced at the phone.

"C-Can I…?" Kurt gestured toward the slim black phone next to him.

"Like I said, it's yours. Call your dad as much as you want, I don't need it back." He said, showing his palms to Kurt, as if to say he was absolutely sure about giving his phone away.

To a stranger, Kurt thought. I'm a stranger to this person and he's giving me his mobile phone.

"Are you- I mean, are you sure? Don't you need to call your family?" Kurt asked, only realizing that what he'd said might be inappropriate. A personal question that Kurt didn't need an answer too, but the other man just nodded.

"I'm sure." He said. Kurt didn't move from his place, but leaned over to grab the phone. He immediately dialed his dad's mobile number. He got dial tone. Keeping his fingers crossed, finding a little bit of hope he didn't know he had left, the phone gave no sound. Nothing.

Kurt sighed. Not in frustration, but because he knew this would happen. He tried the land line. Also dead.

Kurt let his shoulders slump and put the phone down next to him.

"Is it… is it not working?" the stranger stepped from behind the shelves, suddenly standing next to Kurt and grabbing the phone to see if it had been broken. "Sometimes it doesn't get good reception, maybe you should go outside to see if-" he was already on his way to the window, but Kurt made him stop.

"It works just fine. I think there's something wrong in Lima… maybe a power cut, or some other type of cut, I don't know…" Kurt closed his eyes and took another deep breath, accepting he wouldn't talk to his father today. He wasn't okay with the thought of not talking to him tomorrow, or the day after, but he didn't want to think about that now. Today he'd have to survive without any kind words from Burt and Kurt was mentally prepared for it.

"Thank you. For letting me use the phone, I mean." Kurt halfly smiled at the person who was blankly staring at him from in front of the broken window.

"Don't you want to try again?" he held the phone out to Kurt. Kurt shook his head no. "There's no use… But thanks." Kurt said again and now walked to the window too, passing the stranger and giving him a smile.

He already had one leg outside, when he turned his body back to the stranger. "Thanks for these by the way," he said quickly, showing him the bandages on his hands.

"Oh hey, have you had any problems with them? Any pain, or pressure?" he asked, and Kurt shook his head no. "No they're fine."

"Good. That means there's no infection… try and keep the bandages dry for another day and then see if you can take them off. If you see any yellow pus in the bigger wounds, that means they're healing. It's probably best to keep them out in the fresh air after that, but be careful not to touch anything because then they might get infected after all."

Kurt nodded slowly and felt relieved. Glad that this person hadn't lied to him. Happy that there were still honest and kind people that cared for others- complete strangers even. He'd been right. He was _definitely_ a doctor.


	5. Chapter 5

Ready to go, Kurt had turned his back and was about to leave, second foot through the window and he was out on the streets.

"_Wait!_"

Kurt turned back around.

"I didn't- ehm… I mean, those bandages look like they need some changing… I could, I mean, I've got some clean ones in the back here, if you- you know, if you wanted clean bandages?" He stumbled through his sentence, nervous and visibly uncomfortable.

Kurt thought of a second, eyeing the doctor, then looking at his hands. He was right. He could use some clean bandaging… but why would he care? Kurt looked back at the doctor and narrowed his eyes.

"What are your intentions here?" he said warily. "I've thanked you and I have offered you all my money… what else do you want from me?" Kurt was careful. Maybe _too_careful… but he had learned to never just trust anyone. Not this easily.

"Oh no!" he seemed appalled. "No! I'm a doctor, I just want to make sure you are okay and don't risk infections…" he reassured him, almost pushing it too hard. Kurt eyed him up and down once more. He was smaller than Kurt, and definitely skinnier. He could easily take him.

"Okay… yes, some fresh bandaging sounds really nice, actually." Kurt didn't smile, even though he felt he wanted to. He stepped back inside, making the doctor smile slightly before he turned around and waved for Kurt to follow him.

"I'm Kurt, by the way," Kurt said, following him into the stockroom.

"Blaine," the doctor answered, entering the stockroom and walking around some shelves all the way to the back of the room.

"Hmm…. Doctor Blaine. Sounds a bit informal." Kurt commented. He knew it was strange, and weird, but he really wanted Blaine to be the person he thought he was. He admitted to himself, there wasn't much use in making new friends now that the world was ending in less than a month, but he hoped he would find a friend in Blaine. Even though this was weird, and unusual… but over the past few weeks everything had been weird and unusual.

"It's…. It's Doctor Anderson, actually, but… you don't have to call me that. Just Blaine's good."

"Okay, _Just Blaine_." Kurt said and caught himself feeling familiar enough to be playful. He immediately recomposed and cleared his throat. He noticed Blaine stole a glance and smiled before turning back to rummaging through his stuff. That's when Kurt noticed.

This was a living space! There was a mattress on the floor, a table with a gas cooker and all sorts of cooking pots and pans underneath it. A bedside table against the wall, next to a shelf with stock for the supermarket.

"Oh, my Gosh… do you live here?" Kurt asked, quite shocked at the scene.

Blaine shrugged slightly and gave a nod, unwrapping new bandages he'd taken from the white first aid kit Kurt remembered from the day before.

"Sort of." Blaine answered, motioning for Kurt to sit down on a desk chair Kurt suspected he'd taken from behind a register.

Kurt did as he was told and sat down, still quite confused at the place he found himself in.

"But… I thought you said you're a doctor… Doesn't that mean- I mean, you must make, or have made, enough money to afford an apartment in the city- and quite a nice apartment I would suspect," Kurt thought out loud.

Blaine felt his privacy being invaded, but found the curiosity from Kurt actually really nice. He looked around the small living arrangement he'd put together in the stockroom, hidden from the door, walls of boxes and shelves and an old curtain used as a make-believe door. He was quite proud how cozy he'd made it look when he had set the entire thing up, but now that he was seeing it through someone else's eyes, he saw how ridiculous it really was.

"Erm… yea."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-" Kurt hadn't meant to offended him – he was just wondering…

"No, it's fine. Yea, I do actually have quite a nice apartment, and I still sometimes go there to get stuff, but I haven't been there in a week now…" Blaine said, unwrapping the old bandaging from both Kurt's hands. Kurt gave him a confused look.

"I'm here because the hospitals are no longer the place people go to when they need medical help… most of the hospitals have been taken over by people from mental institutions that were suddenly allowed to venture into the real world without any supervision… instead people go to supermarkets to find medication, or alcohol – anything to numb pain. I noticed people would come here to find bandaging, band aids, pain killers and anything else they could get their hands on." Kurt's hands were now bare and he got a good look at them.

They looked… they looked fine. Like the pieces of glass hadn't dug deep into his flesh at all. But they had! Kurt remembered the pain he'd felt! Kurt inspected his hands, making Blaine chuckle slightly.

"Doesn't look half as bad, does it?"

"How did you do this?" Kurt was baffled.

"Hygiene and the right amount of pressure from the bandages make the difference." Blaine explained, taking his left hand first, gently pushing some cotton balls, dipped with alcohol, onto the small wounds.

Kurt winced as he felt the sting from the alcohol.

"Yea, sorry, it might sting a little but that only means it's okay. If you wouldn't have felt anything, that's when I'd get worried." Blaine joked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

There was a short silence in which Blaine wrapped up Kurt's left hand, almost making Kurt blush by the touch. He was very gentle. Soft hands that trailed his and kept taking hold of his wrist. Kurt almost liked it so much he wanted Blaine to unwrap it and start all over.

"So yeah, I decided to set up camp here so I could help people… you know, with little things."

Kurt nodded, impressed by how selfless this was. Blaine had left his fancy (Kurt guessed it was fancy and about twice as big as his apartment) place to live in a stockroom so he could tell people with injuries what medication to take from the store. If this wasn't the perfect example of Doctors Without Borders, he didn't know what was.

Kurt then chuckled. "And do you threaten to kill all your patients with spaghetti, or was that just me?"

Blaine's eyes shot up to look into Kurt's.

"I- I didn't know what I was thinking… sorry, about- Sorry about all of that, it's just…"

"Hey it's okay. I mean, I very nearly peed my pants but I didn't get hurt." Kurt reassured Blaine, but Blaine wasn't convinced.

"You did though." He said, nodding towards his hands whilst he got bandaging for Kurt's right hand.

"If I hadn't scared you, you wouldn't have had to run away and wouldn't have fallen down."

Kurt swallowed. He was right. But Kurt didn't blame him. New York had become a scary place, especially if your 'house' didn't have any locks. Or even a _door_. Anyone could just walk in, step through the window, and kill Blaine while he was sleeping. Not that Kurt could find a reason for anyone to do such a thing, but the possibility was there. No… he didn't blame Blaine whatsoever.

"Apology accepted." Kurt said, stopping a discussion that hadn't started yet. He figured it'd be the only thing to make Blaine feel better about it. And if he didn't feel better, it had at least shut him up about it.

"There." Blaine said, having finished wrapping up Kurt's hands, leaving a little more finger-wiggle space this time. Kurt looked at his hands and smiled. Crispy white, clean bandages. Perfect.

"Thank you, this is much better." Kurt smiled, wiggling his fingers and softly trying to make fists to see how far it would give.

"No problem. If you have any more problems, come and see me." Blaine said, his voice very serious and professional.

"Okay, Doctor Anderson." Kurt smiled and managed to make Blaine smile too.

"It's just Blaine."

"Right. _Just Blaine_… well, I think I'd better get back to…" Kurt had to think. What did he have to get back to…?

"Noodles!" Kurt finished his sentence. He got a funny look from Blaine who was packing up the first aid kit.

"My cat." Kurt explained, hoping he didn't come off as if he'd completely lost his mind. Blaine had to chuckle, but then straightened up and nodded. Neither of them really knew anything else to say, how did people say goodbye these days? Have a happy last three weeks. Hope you die peacefully without too much pain. Hope you don't commit suicide before we get washed over by a tsunami…

"Bye." Kurt settled for bye. A kind smile plastered on his face as he turned his back on Blaine's little living space, walked out of the stockroom and out of the store.

Back at home, Kurt had planted himself on the sofa. A plate of crackers and a plate of cheese in front of him on the coffee table, and Noodles silently purring next to him.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's?" Kurt asked, looking at the DVD in his hands. "Or Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?" he said, looking at the DVD on the table, then turning his gaze onto his cat.

Noodles yawned.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's it is." He said, putting the Marilyn Monroe film back in the cupboard with all the other DVDs and popped the Audrey Hepburn film into the DVD player.

Settling on the couch, he snuggled up under a blanket and pulled Noodles closer. Kurt was happy his cat was one of the hugging-type. Noodles liked physical contact with people and jumped onto Kurt's lap whenever he saw the opportunity. Kurt much rather have this type of a cat than one that would look at him from across the room and run away if he tried to pick it up.

Occasionally reaching out for a cracker and some cheese, Kurt found himself enjoying his evening. He hadn't felt this calm and stress-free in a while and if he tried, if he really tried, he could pretend he had just moved to New York. He could pretend the city outside of his apartment window was alive, with people hailing taxis and people walking their dogs. With people walking home from work, looking forward to meeting friends for dinner. The New York that Kurt had loved so much. And if he _really_ tried, he could pretend his dad was sitting right next to him on the couch, and Carole was rumaging around in the kitchen to make them dinner. But only if he _really_ tried.

It didn't take long before Kurt dozed off, halfway through the film. He didn't even try to fight it. Slipping into a deep sleep, letting it happen, felt really nice. The sound of the film got drowned out by the sound of his dreams – sweet bliss.

Suddenly Kurt sat bolt upright.

Was that _a knock_?

The sudden shock of waking up had made him alert, but very disoriented. When had he fallen asleep? What time was it? Had that really been a knock? Kurt looked beside him to see Noodles, blankly staring up back at him.

Another knock on the door made his blood rush through his veins in fear.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Kurt asked Noodles, trying to calm himself down with humour.

Another knock, now louder. Almost aggressive.

It could only be one person. But Al had his own key. Al had keys to every apartment in this building. Why would he knock? He knew Kurt was home… maybe he was just being kind and didn't just want to walk in. Kurt checked the clock.

9:35pm

What was going on?

"Kurt?" a muffled voice from outside the door was heard.

Kurt froze again, still sat on the sofa.

_Blaine_?


	6. Chapter 6

Gently, making sure he wouldn't startle Noodles, Kurt got up off the couch and shuffled towards the door on his socks. Still wrapped up in a blanket, he looked through the peephole and saw Blaine.

What is _he_ doing here?

"Kurt, are you home?" Blaine's voice, now much louder to Kurt as he was closer to the door, sounded desperate. As if he was in a hurry.

Kurt went over reasons in his head of why Blaine was here. Did he leave something in the stockroom? Did Blaine come to bring his cellphone? And how did he even know what apartment was Kurt's?

Blaine knocked again, almost making Kurt fall backwards with the sudden loud sound.

The noise of locks being opened on the other side of the door made Blaine straighten himself up and he tried to smile, to look friendly for Kurt, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He had news he had been holding back from Kurt, and he shouldn't have. He should have told him straight away, yet he hadn't and with that he'd wasted precious time. He hoped Kurt would forgive him.

"Blaine…" Kurt breathed, not really sure how to react to him, standing in front of his door.

For a moment neither of them knew what to say. Then Blaine spoke up.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Kurt realized he must look a mess. Yes, he did just wake up, but that didn't mean he wanted to look like he just woke up and he immediately started straightening out his hair.

"What…" Kurt cleared his throat. "What are you doing here? How did you find my apartment?" Kurt was wary. He knew Blaine wouldn't do him any harm, but he barely knew him at all… All he knew was he was a doctor, lived in a stockroom to help the injured and had gorgeous honey-coloured, emotion-filled eyes. _Oh…_ Kurt didn't even consciously know he'd noticed those…

"I remembered where you lived from… from, the other day, and so I climbed the fire escape and went downstairs to find your letter box to see which number was yours, but then Al helped me and-"

"He helped you?" Kurt was surprised. Al never just lets anybody in… and when he does, he calls up first. Like a secretary would do for her boss when an appointment shows up. Al never trusted people until he was told he could.

"Yes, he said he remembered me… he referred to me as 'Mr Hummel's doctor' and I tried to correct him, but he sent me up here immediately." Blaine looked apologetic into Kurt's eyes. Kurt nodded slowly, still holding the door and still keeping Blaine out of his apartment.

"W-Why are you here?"

"Oh!" Blaine almost forgot.

"I hope you can forgive me… but there's something I haven't told you, which I should have done, because there's only so much…" Blaine didn't want to say it. But he had to, it was the reality of the situation after all. "… time left." He swallowed hard.

Kurt tilted his head slightly, still the same confused look on his face.

"Listen, you told me about your parents and how you wanted to go and see them?" Blaine knew the subject might be touchy, but the news he had to share was of the good kind.

Kurt blinked a few times and nodded hastily.

"In Ohio?"

Kurt nodded his head again. Blaine took a deep breath, looked down for a moment before looking back up, finding Kurt's eyes. Kurt was confused, what was Blaine talking about?

"I…. I have a car." Blaine breathed. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before and wasted time because you could've already been on your way but-"

"Wait… hold on… are you saying what I think you're saying?" Kurt had finally let go of the door, opening it a little further and giving Blaine a look into Kurt's apartment. Not that Blaine had much time to look around, he was far too scared Kurt was gonna be angry with him.

"I guess…" Blaine said, lowering his head and staring at the floor in shame.

"Are you just gonna give me your car?!" Kurt blurted out in complete disbelieve.

"Well…" Blaine reached down to take a key from his pocket.

"Yes." He held out the key to Kurt, hoping he would take it and not say anything about Blaine keeping this information from him. First he threatened to kill him, then he made him fall into glass… this was the least he could do.

"No." Kurt said, shaking his head quickly. "No, I'm not just going to take your car. Are you insane?" Kurt threw his head back as he waved his hand about and walked into his living room, leaving Blaine at the doorstep with the door still open. Blaine took a second to make sure he was allowed inside, but when Kurt kept talking to him, he figured he could and sensibly stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"How do you even think this is a normal thing to do? And ask me for forgiveness because you didn't offer me your car earlier? Jesus Christ, have you completely lost your mind?!" Kurt couldn't believe this.

"But I-" Blaine tried. He tried because he wanted Kurt to feel better. He had heard him talk about his work, and how he wished he had just gone home instead of staying here. And now it was too late… but Blaine had an answer to these problems. Why wouldn't Kurt just take it?

"No!" Kurt breathed, both hands leaning on the back of a chair as he looked at Blaine, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"It's very nice of you. But no thank you."

"Please, I… I want you to have it…" Blaine said, stepping forward and putting the key he was still holding down on the table. Kurt looked at it for a second and then shot his eyes back up at Blaine. He looked so desperate. Desperate to do the right thing and be accepted for it.

"See it as a payment for my treatment on your hands. You can pay me by taking my car." Blaine tried, but it made no sense to Kurt. If anything, Kurt should be giving Blaine a car… not the other way around.

"You do realize you sound like a mental person, right?" Kurt said, trying to lighten the air. It worked a little, as Blaine shrugged and then nodded.

"But I couldn't care less. I'm not going to use this car, I don't need it. But you do, so I want you to have it. It's in the parking garage in the basement of my building and it's got a full tank of gas… I don't know how far it'll take you exactly, but it'll be closer to you parents than you are now." Blaine explained, physically more relaxed than he had been when he was standing outside in the hallway.

Kurt looked Blaine up and down, noticing how he had changed his shirt. Earlier he had been wearing an old T-Shirt, one that looked like he'd been sleeping in it. Now he was wearing a buttoned up shirt. And, did his facial hair look… shorter?_ Tamed? _

_Had Blaine tried to make himself look nice for this?_ Kurt thought. Then he squinted his eyes a little. _He did look nice._

"Don't you have family to go and see?" Kurt asked. Blaine shifted. "I mean, no one you would like to spend the last day of your life with?" Kurt tried. He tried to make Blaine see that he did need the car for himself. He could not just give it to Kurt without thinking of himself first, Kurt thought. Although seeing Burt and Carole made his heart leap, he was sure Blaine had someone he wanted to see that made his heart leap too.

"No." Blaine's voice was cold, it surprised Kurt.

"Which is why you can take it… the address is-"

"I'm not gonna go alone." Kurt suddenly said, surprising himself. Blaine's pupils seemed to grow larger.

"Wha… what?"

Kurt thought to himself for a second and then decided to just say it. What could go wrong? This guy had proved to him more than once that he was a good guy. A potential friend even though it had made no sense to make friends at all right now. Blaine had tried to be a friend… so Kurt wanted him to come along with him.

"I'm not going to take your car without you coming along with me."

This startled Blaine. He hadn't expected this at all. He had been thinking about what Kurt's reaction might have been. He'd expected Kurt to be angry at first, yelling at him why he hadn't told him so sooner, why he had kept this from him when he could have told him so much sooner. Kurt had been crying in the shop when talking about his parents… hadn't that told Blaine enough?  
He'd also expected Kurt to take the keys of the car and to tell him thanks. Then Blaine would go back to the stockroom and spend the rest of his time helping injured people that came to the store… even though Kurt had been the first person to help in a week, and Blaine suspected he'd also be the last.

"It's your car. You probably know how to drive it better than I do…" Kurt gave reasons. Reasons to come with him to Ohio, because Blaine had been silent. His eyes had glazed over and Kurt was sure he was trying to find reasons to stay here, in New York.

"This part of New York is… it's dead… you won't find others to help here anymore. I was probably the last injured person you'll come across here." Kurt said, making Blaine frown. "And if not the last person, at least the last person to let you help me." They both knew Kurt was right. People didn't trust easily. They never had, in a place like New York, but now- people would rather kill a man than trust a man. You could say you were a doctor, and they would instantly think you'd be lying. Trying to play a trick on them, to get them to trust you and then kill you. Blaine knew this, which is why he'd been hiding behind shelves when he found Kurt, on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and pieces of it sticking out of his palms. He'd been lucky enough to see Kurt run across the street in time, so he could follow him. He'd also been lucky Kurt had given in, thinking Blaine was going to hurt him. It had bothered Blaine for a little while, but then he remembered that he had been allowed to come close and help… he hadn't been given trust for the right reasons, but it had been an opportunity to help which was all that he'd wanted.

"I bet you we'll find a lot more people you can help on our way to Lima. People that need your help… because I don't think many doctors are as good as you are." Kurt said matter-of-factly, making Blaine's eyes smile. Kurt noticed and gave a warm smile in return. Blaine needed courage.

"So it's up to you." Kurt said, giving Blaine the responsibility to decide whether Kurt was going to see his parents or not. Kurt was afraid it was too big of a decision to make, but Blaine didn't think so at all. He wanted to help, and there was only one way he could.

"We'll leave in the morning."


	7. Chapter 7

"I think I've got everything…" Kurt said to himself as he looked into his open bag that was placed on the coffee table. It was only 6am, but Kurt hadn't been able to sleep much at all. He was going to see his dad… there had been no way Kurt was going to be able to sleep through the night peacefully.

He didn't have to take much with him. A bag with a few outfits, some beauty products – _all necessities_ – and things like towels, food, money and his passport. Then there was a travel bag that was ready for Noodles to climb into. Kurt had packed up all the cat food he had and had set some water bottles aside for Noodles. He knew most people left their cats behind… they were left to survive by themselves, either still in their homes or outside in parks. The parks in New York were full with cats and dogs and lots of other pets. But Kurt could never do such a thing. He signed up for a cat and he took that responsibility seriously. And besides that, he also loved Noodles way too much to just leave him behind like that.

Blaine said he'd be outside Kurt's building at 7am. And that Kurt shouldn't be late.

There was one thing Kurt felt a little bad about. Al. Al wouldn't start work until 7:30am and he wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye. Kurt knew that Al sometimes stayed the night, but this night he hadn't. When he was helping Blaine out of the building, he decided he'd go and tell Al about their plans but he hadn't been there. His usual spot behind the front desk was empty.

So Kurt had left a note. Telling him he was gonna leave – he was gonna go home. Blaine, 'his doctor', was going to help him and he'd be fine. He could even come if he wanted to, Kurt had said, but knew he wouldn't get the message 'til after they'd left. So he'd also written down the address of his parents' house in Lima. He hated he couldn't say goodbye face-to-face, but Blaine had been right when he said they shouldn't waste time. Thirty minutes really could make a difference and Kurt wasn't willing to take the risk.

"Come on Noodles," Kurt cooed, his voice far too nice for Noodles to know exactly what was about to happen.

"We're gonna go on a trip." Kurt said, still in the same voice, making Noodles panic. It took Kurt a while to catch him and get him into his travel bag. Noodles hated the travel bag. Kurt had learned after going to the vets on the subway twice, that he was much better of hailing a taxi. Noodles wouldn't stop meowing until he was out of the bag – it sounded like he was dying in there. Kurt knew he wasn't. But the people on the subway didn't.

Kurt knew that Noodles would do fine on the backseat, in or out of the bag, but he didn't know if Blaine was okay with a cat chilling on his backseat… so hence the travel bag.

He decided he should go and wait on the first floor of the building, right by the window of the fire escape so he could see Blaine arrive and yet he'd still be safe. If only Noodles wouldn't make that much noise.

Kurt was early, but so was Blaine.

Blaine had gone home after packing the most important things in the stockroom. Medication, pain killers, bandaids, bandages- anything he still had left, he was taking with him. Some canned food, a few bottles of water and a pair of scissors he used to cut his hair. There was a moment of hesitation. He didn't want to be vein, as if was only a waste of time at this point, but he didn't want to look ungroomed to Kurt. Stores had run out of raisers long ago. People started buying them with the sole reason of committing suicide. They then wanted to put a stop to this, so factories stopped making raisers and if you wanted to buy them you needed a slip of a doctor claiming that you weren't suicidal. This resulted in people buying raisers for others to commit suicide. It had all been so ridiculous; like drug deals in dark alleys, people were secretly exchanging money for something sharp and easy enough to cut veins with without too much pain.

This meant people without electric shavers, were left to grow beards. Like Blaine.

Blaine didn't hate it, but he knew it didn't exactly make him look approachable. Which is something he needed to be, as a doctor.

After stopping at the stockroom, he went to his apartment to have one last shower. He figured he wouldn't see one in at least 3 days. After that he had tried to cut his facial hair with the scissors and managed to kind of make it look even, and short enough to pass as scruff. Still, not as clean and shaven as he'd like to be, but it was the best he could do.

If only he knew how to cut his own hair. Oh, it looked fine when it was wet and he could comb it into place. But when it started to dry, his hair would slowly creep back into its curls and leave him with a rather uncontrollable do.

Blaine kicked himself mentally after he caught himself worrying about his looks. _This is not the time to vein, Blaine_.

One backpack and a smaller across the shoulder bag were packed up, lasting them at least long enough to get to Lima and maybe even then they'd have enough food left to last a few more days. Blaine didn't know if Kurt was bringing anything at all, so he made sure there was enough for the both of them. He knew it would only take about 12 hours to get to their destination, but Blaine was uncertain of what they'd run into outside of this small part of New York. He knew what this place was like, and knew how it had gone from lovely and alive to horrid and dead... but he wasn't sure if it had been the same in other places.

The drive from Blaine's apartment block to Kurt's was a stressful one. Blaine had been scared of people hearing the car, and trying to take it from him. Or at least people trying to catch a ride. But none of the sort happened. Blaine realized Kurt really had been right when he had told him that this part of the city was dead.

Pulling into Kurt's street, Blaine looked to see if Kurt was already waiting outside. He wasn't, the street was empty. He looked up to see if maybe he was trying to climb down the fire escape. He wasn't, the fire escape ladder was still up. This meant he had to pull over and get out of the car which he didn't want to do… because he still feared people might run out of hiding and steal or trash it. He pulled up and waited a few seconds before opening his door and stepping out.

_"No - way!"_

The moment he'd stepped outside, he heard Kurt's voice.

"That is _not_ your car!"

Blaine looked up and saw Kurt, hanging out of the window that he had to climb out of to step onto the fire escape.

"Are you not telling me something here, Doctor Anderson? Do you also work for the government?" Kurt joked, making Blaine look at his car and shrug.

"Hey what can I say," Blaine gave a crooked smile and watched Kurt climb out of the window with his bags.

"Do you need any help up there?" Blaine offered, seeing Kurt struggle with his luggage.

"Yes please, could you come up and take Noodles?" Kurt was so breezy and seemed to be comfortable with the whole situation that it made Blaine feel better about what they were doing. The last thing Blaine needed was someone who was socially awkward, like he could be sometimes.

Kurt lowered the ladder and Blaine climbed it, taking the travel bag and climbing back down. Kurt followed and when they were both standing on the ground, Kurt eyed Blaine suspiciously.

"Are you in the secret service?" he asked, making Blaine chuckle. Kurt wasn't wrong to question the vehicle they were both looking at. The black, shimmery Startech looked like it belonged to the mob.

"No. I'm not… although sometimes people think I am and let me park right in front of restaurants without giving me a hard time about it." Blaine said, now making Kurt chuckle.

"I'm serious though, for a moment I was too scared to go outside, thinking it might be the secret service, looking for survivors in this neighborhood." Kurt said as Blaine opened the door to the backseat, placing Noodles – who was meowing loudly – on the seat.

Blaine smiled at Kurt's words, taking the other bag of Kurt and placing it inside the car also before they both got into the vehicle themselves.

Kurt was verbally impressed with the car's interior too. _The luxury of it,_ Kurt thought to himself as his hands went over the dashboard. Leather seats with built-in heaters, air conditioning from all thinkable angles, a DVD player in the middle of the dashboard where normally the radio would be… this was amazing. How had this car not been trashed or stolen, Kurt had no idea.

They took off, driving out of the neighborhood and into ones that seemed just as deserted. New York looked so lonely, Blaine almost felt sorry for it.

"It's technically not my car," Blaine suddenly said after eyeing Kurt for a while.

"No, because you gave it to me." Kurt said matter-of-factly. This was the truth, Blaine thought to himself. Kurt was right, but that's not what he meant.

"True. But I mean, it's not mine because it's my dad's… I just, get to drive it… I never wanted a car that looks like it belongs to a celebrity."

"Or the secret service." Kurt added.

"Right," Blaine smiled. "But my father insisted I'd use it." Blaine looked at the DVD screen that had popped on when he had started the car. He saw how Kurt was looking at it in awe.

"Do you want to watch something, or should I just put some music on?"

"Music is fine." Kurt said, his eyes big with anticipation of how Blaine was going to get the DVD screen to play music. Blaine cleared his throat, pressed a button near the steering wheel and a loud beep was heard over the speakers.

"Radio on." Blaine articulated perfectly.

The car took a moment to transfer Blaine's request, and after a few seconds music filled the car, making Noodles start meowing loudly again.

"Are we in a time machine… is that what this is?" Kurt jokingly panicked, making Blaine laugh once more.

"Hey, I also could've had a Fiat Multipla – take your pick," Blaine defended himself. Kurt immediately raised both his hands in defeat.

"I'm not saying this isn't a great car – because it's an amazing car! I just wouldn't have pictured you owning something that looks like this." Kurt shrugged. "So flashy."

"Really? What car would you have pictured me to have?" Blaine was curious, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, I don't know…" Kurt shrugged, then thought of a moment. "Something green?"

"_Green?_" Blaine could understand that the whole car wasn't a right fit for him, but the colour was the only thing Blaine liked. Black with a shimmer. It made the car look more expensive than it already was, but it meant that Blaine barely had to wash it as it was the perfect shade to hide dirt and dust.

"As in _environmental!_" Kurt explained. "Like, I don't know, one of those hybrid things maybe…"

Oh.

"I could see you as a person that would try and save anything, even if you couldn't, but you'd still try." Kurt mused, making Blaine blush slightly.

"I guess," he said, but Kurt was right. He'd read him like an open book. If he could, he'd personally make sure every rain forest, every animal and every child was saved from whatever discomfort they were in. Whether that was the lack of a family or treat of extinction – he'd solve the problem if he could.

Which is maybe why the meowing of Noodles got to him. He quickly glanced at Kurt, who was looking out the window, watching New York (or what was left of it) pass by. He didn't even seem to notice Noodles crying out from his travel bag on the backseat.

Blaine swallowed.

"Is ehm… is he gonna make that noise the entire trip?" Blaine asked, looking in the rear-view mirror to see if Noodles was doing okay.

"Yea Noodles isn't a big fan of the travel bag," Kurt explained, turning in his seat to look at his cat. "I think it's because the only times I've used it, is to take him to the vets." Kurt pulled on the bag a little so he could see his cat through the sheer fabric on the side.

"It's okay Noodles, we're not gonna go to a scary doctor this time," Kurt said in a high cooing voice. "Although there might be one in this car," Kurt said, in the same voice, quickly glancing at Blaine.

"Hey!"

"But we're not gonna tell him that I said that," Kurt said, still talking to Noodles. Noodles replied with more loud meowing.

"Oh so you're not on my side here, are you?" Kurt raised his eyebrows at his cat, making Blaine laugh.

"If he, stays calm and just sits and doesn't jump out at us or something, it's okay if he wants to be out of the bag…?" Blaine suggested, both shoulders raised. Kurt stared at him.

"Really? But these are leather seats, I-"

"Are you being serious right now? Leather seats is the last thing I should be worried about right now." Blaine said, looking at an imaginary wrist watch. Kurt understood what he meant.

"And after all, this is your car now…" Blaine said, titling his head and throwing a quick glance at Kurt before turning his eyes back on the road. They were right in the middle of the city now, about to get on the roads that would take them out of it.

It took a moment for Kurt to accept what Blaine said, then undid his seat-belt and turned to sit on his knees so he could reach the backseat and let Noodles out of the travel bag. Kurt opened one zipper, and didn't need to do more as Noodles saw his chance and jumped out of the bag as quickly as he could.

"No jumping Noodles, have you not been listening to what the scary doctor was saying!" Kurt talked to his cat as if he were talking to a small child. "You're out of the bag, and you're not going back in unless you jump, understood?"

Blaine smiled at the situation next to him. _Kurt was cute_, he caught himself thinking. The minute he thought it, he straightened his face and sat up a bit_. No time for nonsense like that, Blaine._

But he was. Kurt was cute.


	8. Chapter 8

Vanishing slowly, the City disappeared behind Kurt and Blaine. Blaine almost felt as if he was running away from it, and not necessarily running towards something else. Happy to be out of New York, he had typed the address to Kurt's home in Lima into the sat nav with Kurt's help, and whilst Kurt was calculating how much time, including pit stops, toilet breaks and any other type of stop they might needed to make, it was going to take them to arrive in Lima.

Blaine was happy to see Kurt excited about going home, but at the same time he didn't feel happy about the entire situation at all. But he shoved his feelings away – they weren't important right now.

About an hour into the drive, Kurt had fallen asleep. Kurt had asked Blaine to tell him about his life, and Blaine hadn't known what to say.

"Start with your childhood."

"Really? Are we gonna go way back?" Blaine had joked, making Kurt shrug one-shouderly.

"I kind of have the right to know who gifted me a time machine and volunteered to be my private driver, don't I?" Kurt had said it in a serious voice, making Blaine check to see if he was joking or not. Kurt was, but only slightly. He _did_ want to know more about Blaine.

More about Blaine's past. His friends, his family, his hobbies, his sexua- _oh._ Kurt caught himself, and blushed. His cheeks flushed in an instant. Blaine didn't notice, he was watching the road. The empty road, with every once in a while a deserted car by the side of it.

"Okay, ehm… so I grew up in Westerville," Blaine had started his story, making Kurt nod.

"Small town near Columbus," Blaine side-noted. He got no response from Kurt so he carried on talking. Blaine talked about his brother, his parents, his dog – Kurt had already forgotten the name. He noticed he started dozing off, and tried to fight it for a little while, but then his eyelids got far too heavy for him to carry. He hadn't had much sleep at all the night before – he'd been far too excited for the road trip with Blaine. There hadn't been anything at all to get excited about for the past few weeks, so the sudden energy had kept him up.

Blaine was still talking, getting lost in memories he had forgotten he had. Memories from times when he remembered his dad giving him proud looks, and his brother knuckling his head whilst play fighting and his mother's smiles. She used to smile so bright… Blaine couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his mother smile. In fact, Blaine couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his parents. The latest memory Blaine had of his family was his mother walking around his New York apartment and disapproving of almost everything, even though she'd commissioned a decorator of her choice to come in and decorate the place. Blaine was sure that he'd seen his parents after that, but he wasn't sure. He was so surprised by the fact that he'd lost bits and pieces of his memory, he tried to remember when the last time was he even thought about his parents.

Blaine had no idea… the last time he had let his thoughts wander off to his family must have been years ago.

He hadn't noticed Kurt had fallen asleep until he suddenly heard a soft snore. First he thought the noise might have come from Noodles on the backseat, but checking the rearview mirror he saw Noodles, draped over the bags that were just high enough for him to look out the window. Then he glanced at Kurt and saw him, turned on his side, facing him and… fast asleep.

Blaine smiled to himself.

_Of course,_ Blaine shook his head. _Of course I start talking and bore him to sleep_. Blaine sighed, slightly chuckling to the situation.

He took his chance to look at Kurt. Whilst peering back and forth at the road and at Kurt, he lowered his speed. He studied the lines of Kurt's face. So beautiful, Blaine breathed.

Kurt was so _refreshing_. Blaine had seen so many faces in his life, so many patients, so many people that trusted him so much he built emotional relationships with them within minutes which then broke apart when they left the hospital again. Blaine knew becoming a doctor had never been the best idea – he took every problem to heart. He took issues from the hospital home with him. He took them to bed and pondered over what he could have done different. He worried too much, he got invested too much. And he knew that if the hospital knew, they'd make him take days off. They'd make sure he would stop feeling guilty over problems that weren't his to solve.

He didn't want that.

He'd met so many faces of people that he cared about, he never forgot one. Blaine ran into people that had once been patients of his, or even family from patients of his, all the time outside of the hospital. He knew they would never recognize him, but he always did. And it always did him good to see the people he had once treated, healthy again.

There was one huge downside. Because so many faces filled his every day thoughts, faces sometimes looked alike too much. New patients would have vague similarities with someone else he would have met years earlier. He'd link the two together and two small problems would become one huge one, tugging on his heart much harder than it should.

But not Kurt.

Blaine had never seen anyone who looked even a little bit like Kurt.

Kurt's face was refreshing. His voice was new. His way of movement was unique. Everything about Kurt deserved a new box in Blaine's mind. Blaine wondered if Kurt knew this about himself.

* * *

Kurt woke up with a jolt.

_Where am I? How did I get here?_

It took Kurt's brain a moment to realize what had happened in the past 24 hours was real, and not just a dream.

The car was parked beside the freeway, and Kurt wondered why they had stopped. He also wondered how long he had been sleeping. He looked around and didn't see Blaine anywhere. He quickly pulled down the car sun-shade to check himself in the mirror. His hair looked okay from this angle, but he worried it looked horrible at the back. He rubbed his eyes a few times to make sure he didn't look like he just awoke a coma and quickly snapped the sun-shade shut when he heard a car door open.

"You're awake!" Blaine's voice filled the silence.

Blaine had opened a door to the backseat and stroked Noodles before gently pushing him aside a little so he could open one of his bags.

"What time is it?" Kurt asked, slightly turning 'round to look at Blaine.

"It was 10AM a few minutes ago. I really needed the toilet, so I stopped." Blaine said, grabbing a water bottle. He took it out of the car and splashed some of the water over his hands as if to wash them.

"The last time I urinated outdoors must have been when I was four," Blaine smiled to himself, making Kurt roll his eyes.

"Oh yea, right. Don't try and tell me you don't pee in public pools," Kurt made a face. Blaine had placed the bottle of water back in the bag and took out some hand sanitizer.

"Swear on my life!" Blaine exclaimed.

"I don't believe you." Kurt narrowed his eyes. Blaine rubbed the hygienic fluid in between his hands before slamming the door shut with his hips, smirking slightly. When he got back in the front seat, he started the car. Then he looked at Kurt.

"For one to be able to pee in a public pool… one has to actually go to a public pool." Blaine explained, pressing his foot down and taking off.

* * *

"So Westerville, huh."

"Oh so you did manage to catch some of that? You know, before I bored you to sleep?"

"You didn't bore me to sleep!" Kurt shot to defend himself. He had fallen asleep because he liked listening to Blaine's voice. It had been so soothing, and Kurt had been so tired. It was like being sung to sleep by a lullaby. _Maybe even better than that,_ Kurt thought.

He'd never tell Blaine that, though.

"I didn't get much sleep at all last night… Kind of difficult to get some rest after a stranger offers you a car to go and see your family," Kurt threw the ball back in Blaine's court. It made Blaine chuckle.

A silence fell between them. The radio was very softly playing songs in the background, and Kurt checked on Noodles really quick to find him fast asleep on one of Blaine's bags.

"But yea, Westerville. I haven't been there in years though, I wouldn't be able to tell you much about it."

"Did you move away?"

"Six years ago, I left to go to New York and chase my dreams." Blaine's face fell, but Kurt hadn't noticed.

"Ah, me too…" Kurt reminisced.

"I left Lima to go to NYADA, didn't quite make the cut and applied for an internship at … sort of a weird miracle happened and I got it and have never left the place." Kurt smiled to himself. He'd been so happy with his job. He was always bragging about it to everyone, but now Kurt wished he had tried so much harder to make his initial dreams come true. His entire life he had dreamed of having his face on a huge billboard on Broadway… and now it was too late.

_It's too late for everything_, Kurt thought to himself. _No one cares about anything anymore_. He looked at Blaine.

"I guess my dream made way for another smaller dream..." He swallowed, almost grieving the loss of his Broadway dream.

Blaine didn't know what to say. He could hardly ask for Kurt to sing for him, but it was all he could think of. Kurt had a beautiful speaking voice… it had to be a given to be spectacular when he sang. Whether he made NYADA or not.

"What about you? What dream were you chasing?" Kurt asked, genuinely interested.

"Oh, ehm… a doctor. I've always wanted to a doctor." Blaine said, his eyes not leaving the road in front of them.

"You know, be a hero… save lives… that sort of thing," Blaine smiled awkwardly. Kurt looked at him and noticed everything about Blaine's body language. He shifted in his seat, and realized Blaine was lying to him. Kurt read him like an open book; his slight shift in his seat to sit up a little straighter, his grip on the steering wheel got a little tighter and Blaine swallowed.

Kurt didn't mention it, though. From everything, it was clear that Blaine didn't want to discuss it. So he went with it.

"And you became one! That's great!"

Blaine's eyes quickly glanced at Kurt.

"Yea… yea, it's great."

"So… are you gonna go to Westerville?" Kurt asked, his body fully turned in his seat to be able to look at Blaine. His shoulder leaned against the chair and he studied Blaine's sudden nervousness.

"I… I thought I was driving you to Lima?" Blaine said, pointing at the small square of navigation screen in the corner of the DVD screen.

"Yea, we're doing that… but then what?" Kurt asked, shrugging.

Blaine frowned. This is something he hadn't thought of yet. There was no use in driving back to New York, but it was the only thing Blaine could think of now. Even though the car was Kurt's now, he hadn't thought about what was gonna happen after Kurt would be reunited with his family. He had hoped he would maybe think of something during their road trip.

"I mean, you must have family somewhere still, that you would want to see?" Kurt tried, his voice calm and soft. Blaine noticed how Kurt was nice and kind but also pushing him into something he wasn't ready for.

"Not really." Blaine softly said, almost choking on his words.

"Not even 1 person in your family? An aunt, or uncle? Grandparents maybe?"

Kurt smiled apologetic. He didn't want to make Blaine feel uncomfortable, but Kurt had made himself uncomfortable with the thought of Blaine not having anyone else to go to or to talk to after Kurt would be home. Kurt needed for Blaine to have somewhere to go to. Maybe not so much for Blaine, but more for himself. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help it.

"Grandparents maybe…" Blaine had finally answered.

Kurt knew he was probably only saying that to make Kurt drop the topic. _It was enough for now,_ Kurt thought.


	9. Chapter 9

Even though Blaine thought Kurt would've caught up on his sleep now, it hadn't taken him long to doze off again. It was three hours later, and the sun was high up in the sky._ The world actually looks nice and peaceful_, Blaine thought to himself.

The gas meter on the dashboard didn't look as nice—, or peaceful for that matter. Blaine shifted in his seat a little, lowering his speed. Maybe they could drive longer if they would go slightly slower – maybe if they could drive longer they could find a gas station where the pumps still worked.

Blaine didn't tell Kurt they were running out. He figured he didn't need to make Kurt worry because maybe they would find a gas station, and Blaine could just fill up the car, and there wouldn't be a problem.

But then there _was_ a problem.

The car eventually started spluttering and came to a stop.

It woke Kurt up.

"What's the matter, why are we stopping?" Kurt's voice crackled. He rubbed his eyes to look around outside.

Blaine turned off the engine and tried turning it on again, but the car didn't give.

"We… we're out of gas." Blaine admitted, his face hanging down slightly.

Kurt looked at Blaine, then at the meter on the dashboard. Blaine was right, the arrow couldn't possibly go any lower.

"Oh, well, didn't you mention you had an extra tank in the trunk we could use?" Kurt tried. They had only been on the road for about five and a half hours. Their journey couldn't possibly stop now.

"Yea… we did have extra gas," Blaine started, guilty eyes turning to Kurt. "But I used that when I pulled over to publicly urinate—"

"Pee! Just say pee! You went for a pee!" Kurt cut Blaine off, suddenly irritated. Kurt wasn't a morning person, and even though it was now in the afternoon, he had just woken up. Waking up to bad news would put anyone in a bad mood.

Blaine ignored Kurt's little outburst. Instead he started tapping away on the DVD screen. He opened the sat nav window and as Kurt just looked quizzically at what he's doing, Blaine tried to find out how close the nearest gas station is.

"It's not for another 15 miles." Blaine spoke, his voice heavy with guilt.

They both just stared at the screen.

"I'm sorry…" Blaine's voice made a dip in volume, making Kurt feel bad for snapping at Blaine earlier.

"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault that this car gulps gas like Winehouse downed her shots…" Kurt joked, his voice much softer now, succeeding in making Blaine half-smile.

"Look where it got both of them." Blaine joked back, only realizing how tragic the joke was after he'd said it.

Everything was dying and Blaine hated how he couldn't do anything about it.

Another silence fell where Kurt tried to find out where exactly they were, but the map was too far zoomed in for him to know.

"What are we going to do?" Kurt sighed, expecting his question to not get an answer.

"I think… I think we're going to have to walk…" Blaine proposed, his face scrunched up as if he was in pain. This is the last thing he wanted, but there seemed to be no other option.

"And leave your car behind? Have you lost your mind?!" Kurt was shocked at how easy the decision had been made by Blaine. His voice was louder than he anticipated it to be, but Blaine just smirked.

"I think you forgot that I gave it to you. It's no longer mine, so there's not much leaving behind for me to do."

"Oh, shut up." Kurt snapped back, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.

Blaine knew he shouldn't particularly be happy with Kurt's mood, but he strangely enough was. He was glad Kurt wasn't being polite; he was glad Kurt felt comfortable enough to be himself and speak his mind. To Blaine it meant that they were no longer strangers. Also, Kurt looked like an angry five year-old when he was mad, which made him look adorable. Blaine repressed a smile.

"There's not really another way of getting closer to your parents than getting out and walking." Blaine made his point. He had accepted it about an hour ago when he saw they were going to run out of gas at some point during their trip. But Kurt hadn't known, so Blaine knew it might take a while for him to accept it too.

"But, how can we. . . I just- maybe. . . Maybe if we push it—" Kurt tried.

"Hey, if you feel comfortable pushing this beast of a car, be my guest, but I think it's better if we just walk until we find some other mode of transportation."

Kurt knew there wasn't another option, but he didn't want to give up so easily.

"Like what?" Kurt challenged Blaine, giving him a look.

"Like, maybe we hitchhike, I don't know." Blaine shrugged, while he undid his seatbelt and opened his car door to step outside.

"But we'll get ourselves killed!" Kurt exclaimed.

Already outside, Blaine turned to look at Kurt whilst holding the door, ready to slam it shut. The pair just looked at each other for a moment. Blaine eyes told Kurt all he needed to know and it gave him the extra push. There was no other way.

Finally Kurt exhaled loudly, and then also undid his seatbelt.

"Fine. Let's walk."

After a picnic in the sun, which basically consisted of crackers with jam and bottles of water, Kurt and Blaine prepared to leave. Noodles refused to sit in his travel bag, so Kurt folded it up and packed it in one of his other bags. Blaine found a piece of string, long enough to make-shift a leach and tied it to Noodles' collar. It made Kurt laugh so much, he had to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes.

"It's like he's a dog!" Blaine exclaimed, proudly holding onto the piece of string as Noodles tried to bite it off. "Except this one doesn't bark."

Noodles enjoyed being able to walk around for a little while, and Blaine ran with him for a little bit too. But there came a moment where Noodles lied down and refused to get up. Kurt pulled him along, dragging him across the street for a few steps, but Noodles meowed so loudly that eventually Kurt just picked him up and carried him like a baby.

Perfectly content in Kurt's arms, Noodles purred as the sun warmed his body.

It was hot in the sun. Hotter than Kurt had thought it was going to be.

After maybe an hour of walking beside the road, Blaine stopped to take his sweater off. Kurt pretended not to stare, but how could he not? He got a peek at Blaine's naked stomach right before Blaine pulled his T-shirt back into its place.

They took several breaks. Just to sit down and relax for a moment, hoping that maybe a car would pass that could take them along further. But no cars passed at all.

It was like New York; Kurt and Blaine could dance in the middle of the street if they wanted to.

They didn't talk much. Not for the casual chit chat or comments on things that they saw. Kurt was far too wrapped up in his thoughts about his family. How would they react when he would suddenly be outside the front door? They'd be so happy, Kurt's dad wouldn't be able to stop crying. _He'd probably spontaneously want to adopt Blaine,_ Kurt thought to himself. _Although that wouldn't work_, Kurt thought as he sneaked a glance at Blaine. _There's no way Dad is going to turn my crush into a stepbrother… not again._

Blaine's mind was racing too. Not so much with happy thoughts, like Kurt, but far more anxious thoughts. He was getting closer to a place he once called home and he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to be so close to it at all. He knew Kurt probably wouldn't hate him if he said he didn't want to go any further but why would he do that? He hadn't had a friend like Kurt for a long time, even though Kurt and Blaine weren't even real friends yet. He'd much rather spend the last days of his life with Kurt than alone in New York. And who knew, maybe they would come across a hospital where he could stay to help.

It was getting late, and Kurt's feet hurt. Blaine had taken Noodles off him after Kurt couldn't feel his right arm anymore. Noodles wasn't a heavy cat, but carrying a cat in the same position long enough did the trick.

The sun was about to set when the pair came across a house.

It was quite a bit off of the road, which was a little higher than the land beside it. Kurt was yawning, and Blaine was tired too. It was the first house they had seen in a long time, and even though Blaine couldn't find a way to get to it other than climbing over the guardrail, down the slight hill and through the grass, he wanted to see if there were people who could help them.

Kurt had protested.

"We're in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania. I really doubt that they'll be okay with driving us to Ohio."

"It's late. Let's just see if they have a couch we can sleep on."

Blaine had already stepped over the guardrail, Noodles firmly gripped in his arms.

"A couch?" Kurt's eyebrows raised high; almost reaching his hairline.

"Or a bed, whatever, I don't really mind."

Not entirely the point he was addressing, Kurt smirked at Blaine's answer. Clearly Kurt had meant that Blaine had only mentioned one couch, as if the pair would share one, but Blaine hadn't picked up on it. He was already down on what appeared to be a huge front lawn.

"I don't know, Blaine, the place looks kind of. . . dead." Kurt looked at the house, now also climbing over the guardrail, following his friend who was still carrying his pet.

They really were in the middle of nowhere. Kurt expected there not to be another house for at least two miles.

When Kurt climbed his way down, he struggled with his bags more than Blaine had. Kurt had one hand to keep him balanced, and Blaine hadn't because he was still holding Noodles. Yet Blaine had made it look far easier than Kurt found it to be.

When Kurt finally made it down, Blaine was already on the other side of the field.

Without consulting Kurt, Blaine walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell twice. Kurt had nearly crossed the field, but kept his distance in case the owners of the house had bad news and they would have to go back to the road again.

Blaine rang the doorbell twice, looked back at Kurt and gave him a hopeful thumbs up. Kurt didn't move.

After waiting for a while, Blaine rang the doorbell again, and knocked a few times, but no one came to open the door. _Kurt was right_, Blaine thought_. This place is kind of dead._

"I don't think anybody's home," Blaine turned around, expecting Kurt to still be standing in the front yard, but he wasn't. Kurt's bags were still there, in the spot where he was standing before, but Kurt was gone.

A sudden loud shatter of glass made Blaine jump.

"_Kurt!_"


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to my lovely beta reader **probablyquantum**!

* * *

Unable to figure out where the shatter of glass came from, Blaine called out Kurt's name again.

He didn't get an answer; instead he heard more glass shatter. This time it was softer than the first crash he'd heard, which had been so loud that it had made Noodles jump out of his grip.

Blaine cautiously followed the noise and turned around the corner of the house – first just his face to see if he'd be in danger, then his whole body followed when he saw what was going on.

Kurt stood by a window, only a few feet away from Blaine, one of his shoes in his hand. He didn't look at Blaine, even though Kurt had noticed his presence. Instead he used his shoe to get the remaining glass from the window pane out of there.

"Kurt, _what_ are you doing?"

"You wanted a couch to sleep on tonight." Kurt shrugged, opening the window from the inside. It was large enough for them to climb through, though not as big as the shop window, Kurt reminded himself, but still big enough for them to get in without a scratch.

"Come here, I'll give you a hand," Kurt waved him over.

"But someone could be in there!" Blaine was alarmed, walking through the yard towards Kurt.

"Then we'll apologize and ask for a couch to stay on," Kurt said, breezy as ever, like he hadn't done anything wrong.

Blaine opened his mouth to protest, but Kurt didn't let him. "Or a bed… whatever, I don't really mind." Kurt smirked.

Blaine's eyes were big with worry as he looked at the window, then back at the road they had walked on for miles. The sun had already set and it was getting darker by the minute. He knew chances of other people passing this house were small – he was almost sure they would get away with breaking into this house, but that didn't mean he wasn't scared, or worried.

Blaine looked back at the window and leaned a little towards it.

"Hello?!" he yelled. "Is anybody home?"

They waited for an answer, but when they didn't get one, Kurt took Blaine's shoulders and positioned him in the perfect spot to be lifted into the house.

"Careful for the glass inside, you might step on it and slip." Kurt reminded the both of them of how they had met. It made Blaine snigger, instantly lightening his mood.

Kurt counted to three and let Blaine step on his bent knees so he could safely get in. Blaine almost lost his balance, one foot on Kurt's leg and the other half way through the window. Kurt grabbed his hips. Or actually, his hip and _his ass_. Perfectly cupping one of Blaine's butt cheeks, Kurt's face flushed.

Blaine was inside, and making sure that Blaine didn't see Kurt's rosy cheeks, Kurt turned his back and ran over to get all the bags and Noodles. _Let's just pretend that didn't happen_, Kurt agreed with himself.

When they were all inside the house, Kurt immediately went on a scavenger hunt to find food.

"There's no way you're hungrier than I am, but I take it you could eat," Kurt called out as he wandered off to find the kitchen.

Blaine didn't feel as comfortable being in a house they had just broken into as Kurt felt. He warily walked around, slowly, making sure he didn't make too much noise with his footsteps and took in his surroundings. He wanted to know what kind of a place he was in, and be sure that there really was no one to catch them when they thought they were safe.

Every room Blaine had been in, had stuffed animals scattered around to serve as decoration. Some of them looked quite impressive, Blaine thought. Almost all the furniture was made of wood, even walls and the ceiling had wooden panels and beams that were left unpainted.

"Hello?" Blaine called out again, making Kurt laugh from the kitchen.

"No one's here, Blaine! Go and see if there are some beds we can sleep in."

Blaine looked around the living room once more before taking a deep breath and accepting that they were doing this. They were here for the night and using this abandoned house to sleep in. Just for tonight. He convinced himself that if the owners of the house would show up, it was easy enough to explain why they were there. Times were desperate; people did weird and crazy things. They would understand.

Blaine found three bedrooms. One of them was big, with a double bed. The other two were much smaller. From the decoration on the walls, the toys and the bed linen, Blaine was sure the two smaller rooms belonged to children.

As Blaine walked back to the living room to get his bags, he heard pots and pans in the kitchen as Kurt was cooking. His stomach rumbled and he realized how hungry he really was. He quickly got all his stuff, dropped it in one of the bedrooms and joined Kurt in the kitchen.

"This smells really good," Blaine commented as he walked in.

"I hope you like spaghetti because that's all I could find." Kurt said and opened one of the kitchen cabinets for proof of being empty. Blaine raised his eyebrows at the sight.

"Do you need any help?" Blaine asked, suddenly overcome with a homely feeling. He wanted to help Kurt cook, and set the table, and turn on the radio or the TV, and snuggle with Noodles and pretend to be a family… _with Kurt_. Blaine sneaked a peek at Kurt, for a moment scared he could read his mind.

"What?" Kurt had noticed Blaine eyeing him.

"I, erm. . ." Blaine shifted uncomfortably, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I asked if you needed any help? Cooking, I mean." Blaine straightened his composure.

"Yes, and then I said you can go and feed Noodles if you want to," Kurt said, _again_. He squinted his eyes at Blaine. _Those dreamy eyes haven't been listening to me at all_, Kurt thought.

"Oh, sure! Of course!" Blaine said, quickly leaving the kitchen, calling out for Noodles.

Kurt turned back to the stove, silently chuckling to himself. _Blaine's adorable_, Kurt thought.

* * *

Blaine was nervous and fidgety as he was setting the table. Kurt just caught him red-handed fantasizing about him. And not even in a dirty way, but still fantasizing. He hadn't even heard what Kurt said to him! Luckily Kurt had asked him to do lots of things: feed Noodles, set the table, bring their bags to their bedrooms— lots of things to keep him busy until dinner time. The food smelled great and Blaine tried to think back to his last proper meal but he couldn't remember. The last warm food he'd had must have been baked beans in tomato sauce. Not his favourite, but when he lived in the supermarket's storage room it was the only thing he could heat up. You know, besides the spaghetti he used to fake a gun to threaten people with.

Kurt and Blaine both sat down at the dinner table. Blaine found an old radio that seemed to work a little and had turned it on, simply to have a little background noise. He hated awkward silences, and even though their silences hadn't been awkward before, suddenly everything was different. They were in a house together, having dinner together. . . _like couples do_. Blaine didn't know if Kurt was thinking it over like he was, but it had made him nervous. So a little music was not only _just nice_, it was also a necessity.

"Who do you think lived in this house?" Kurt asked, making conversation as they were eating.

"I don't know… farmers, or hunters maybe." Blaine said, looking around the room they were in. "A family with two children."

"So, the dad's a hunter," Kurt spoke, imagining the family. "What do you think the mom did?"

Blaine thought for a second. "Stay-at-home-mom. Taking care of the children, doing laundry, cooking dinner, you know, that sort of thing."

"With a secret singing talent." Kurt added, making Blaine tilt his head a little. "She would sing throughout the day, and the children pretended to hate it, but secretly really enjoyed the sound of her voice. They could hear it in their rooms as their mom would be cooking dinner."

Blaine looked at Kurt, amazed with what he just said.

"Does _your _mother have a secret singing talent?" Blaine asked, guessing that that would be the reason for Kurt to come up with such a thing.

Kurt stopped chewing his food and took a few seconds to swallow, just staring at his plate. He seemed sad. The whole vibe between Kurt and Blaine shifted. The mood had changed, and Blaine felt uncomfortable having obviously said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry." Blaine blurted out, not even sure what he was saying sorry for.

Kurt's eyes shot up and looked straight into Blaine's. "Don't be, it's not your fault." Kurt said. It was something he'd said so many times, it almost sounded robotic.

"I shouldn't have turned this into a personal conversation, I have no right to go there and you shouldn't have to answer, I'm so sorry—" Blaine panicked a little, making Kurt feel bad for his initial reaction.

"It's okay!" Kurt interrupted Blaine. "My mother. . . she died, when I was 8. . . and she did have quite a good singing voice, which I haven't been able to listen to since, so. . . yea, she did have a secret singing talent." Kurt explained, feeling he owed Blaine the story. He looked so petrified.

"I'm sorry." Blaine didn't know what else to say.

Kurt smiled through sad eyes. "It's alright, don't worry about it. I've got an amazing stepmother now, and my dad is literally the best dad in the world so I can't really ask for more."

Blaine looked down at his plate, suddenly not hungry at all. But the food looked good still, so he forced himself to take another bite.

"And with my stepmother, I also got a new stepbrother, who I accidently had a crush on before he became my brother, which my parents still don't know and hopefully never will know." Kurt laughed to himself. "Jesus, this all feels like absolute ages ago."

A silence fell. Blaine had been listening to Kurt talk about his family, but his thoughts had started to race after Kurt said he used to have a crush on someone. Someone who was _male_. Kurt used to have a crush _on a guy_. Was Kurt gay? Was he really? _Or at least bisexual?_ Blaine had hoped he would be, but he hadn't been sure. He hadn't want to stereotype. . . but now Kurt had said it himself.

"What about your family?" Kurt asked, completely oblivious to Blaine's thoughts.

"Oh, ehm. . ." Blaine thought of a second, frowning slightly, then he shrugged. "I'm not really close with my family."

"I know, you've mentioned that. You said you wouldn't even go and visit your parents in Westerville, so I kind of figured you weren't on amazing terms with them." Kurt stated.

"It's not that I have a terrible relationship with them. . . we're just not close, not like you are with your parents." Blaine shrugged and was visibly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. But Kurt wanted to know.

"Is it rude of me to think that's weird?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged again. "As long as I'm out of jail and not on crack, they kind of just don't care. They have my brother to fulfill all of their happy family fantasies."

"But that's terrible!" Kurt shrieked. He couldn't imagine how horrible it must be not to have someone like Burt or Carol to fall back on. Who did Blaine call in an emotional crisis if he couldn't even call his parents?

"Is it? It's not as if they're neglecting me completely. . . they just feel that I'm an adult and I can live my own life without them. And they're right."

Kurt knew they weren't right. Kurt also knew that Blaine thought they weren't right, but apparently this was something nestled way deeper than Kurt had initially thought. He had hoped he'd swoop in and convince him to see his parents and he'd maybe even get to witness a teary, but happy, family reunion. He could've been a hero for Blaine, but Blaine wasn't letting him.

"It mustn't always have been that way. . ." Kurt tried. He hoped there would at least be some happy memories for Blaine.

"Oh no," Blaine shook his head vigorously. "No, we used to be like one of those happy families you see in TV commercials. My brother and I used to play football with my dad in the backyard after school almost every day until my mother would call us in for dinner and then we'd talk about our day. . . you know, a very Leave-It-To-Beaver-family." Blaine shifted on his chair. Kurt didn't say anything, he just listened. "But then my brother moved away to LA to become an actor which left me alone with just my parents, and everything was still fine for a long time, until. . ." Blaine lingered his sentence and looked up at Kurt, not sure to tell him the truth or come up with a silly lie.

Kurt's kind eyes wished for him to continue his story.

"Until, I came out and found the courage to tell my parents that I am gay." Blaine decided to tell the truth.

He had expected Kurt to accept it, seeing as Kurt had just sort of told Blaine that he liked men, Blaine had the confidence to tell him he liked men also. But Kurt looked like he was _in shock_. He gasped loudly, almost angrily, which scared Blaine.

Had Blaine misread the entire situation? Weren't they telling each other deep truths about themselves? Weren't they being, dared Blaine even think it, _flirtatious_ with each other?

Kurt _was_ angry. Shocked. He wasn't shocked to hear Blaine was gay. He was shocked to hear that his parents didn't accept that Blaine was gay. Kurt remembered what it was like, coming out to his father. He had been so scared, and so nervous, and so lucky that his dad had been accepting. It hadn't been easy at all for Kurt's father, but he had accepted Kurt. To even think about what would've happened if Kurt's dad hasn't accepted Kurt for who he was, sickened Kurt.

"I'm sorry, I thought you said—" Blaine started, his voice small.

"Those idiots!" Kurt cut him off, his voice loud and angry.

Blaine realized what was happening, and relaxed. Kurt was swearing at Blaine's parents – not at Blaine.

"I know." Blaine chimed in, agreeing. His parents were idiots! "I moved away from home to get away from the constant bad vibes. My parents disapproved of all of my choices, even though I don't think you choose to be gay, but they just didn't accept it."

The spaghetti Kurt had cooked quickly cooled down as the pair chatted about their coming out stories, both a lot more relaxed than they had been before. Blaine explained how the only thing about his family that he missed was the family dog. Kurt asked about the car that Blaine told him belonged to his father. That doesn't sound like something a father would give his son if he doesn't appear to like him a whole lot. Blaine then explained that the car was a gift. He could drive the car as his birthday present, but Blaine knew it was because the car was meant to make Blaine look rich. Like his father couldn't stand people to think of his son not coming from a rich family. His father had only hoped it would attract girls to Blaine. That Blaine would be seduced by gold-digging girls that would make him 'see the light'. He had heard his parents talk about it when they thought Blaine was already upstairs in his room, yet he'd been sat on the stairs to listen to them talk.

After a while they both realized their dinner had cooled down completely, but neither of them was hungry anymore. Collecting Blaine's plate and cutlery, Kurt slightly chuckled to himself and for a moment he froze and stared into space.

"Isn't life completely crazy?" Kurt asked, now looking at Blaine.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, here we are. . . humanity is about to be completely washed out by whatever people are predicting is going to ruin the planet; meteor showers, the poles switching, aliens invading— God knows which prediction will turn out to be the truth, and we're having dinner in a house that's not ours. . ." Kurt took a look around the room.  
"I mean, I barely even know you, I met you like, two days ago? Yet have somehow accepted you into my life as my new best friend and we turn out to have a lot more in common than we initially thought."

Blaine just stared at Kurt, not sure if what he said even needed a response from him.

"It's so crazy," Kurt smiled, answering his own question and taking another moment to think it over before shrugging it off completely. He picked up the dirty dishes and walked out of the room, leaving Blaine stunned.

Blaine might have been denying it before, but now he knew for sure. There was no hiding it now. _Blaine had feelings for Kurt_.

to be continued


End file.
